


What's Meant To Be

by meredithleon



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alec Lightwood Deserves Nice Things, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Best Friends, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Endgame Malec, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magnus Bane Deserves Nice Things, Malec, Minor Character Death, Movie AU, One-Sided Attraction, One-sided pining, at least in the beginning, have a little faith, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:54:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13202247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meredithleon/pseuds/meredithleon
Summary: Magnus and Alec are best friends in college. A new girl attracts Magnus' attention and he falls in love, at first sight, putting a strain on his and Alec's friendship, specially after Alec realizes that his feelings for Magnus run deeper than just friendship. Eventually, they fall apart, and Alec decides to continue his studies back in Idris after receiving the news of his youngest brother's death.They meet again. After seven years, and renew their friendship. But things are different and neither of them is the same. Alec has embraced his sexuality and Magnus has buried his demons.Unknown to them, another person wants to see them together and happy. And that person is willing to do anything to make that happen.------------------Or a Kuch Kuch Hota Hai AU! with a dash of Parent Trap thrown in...





	What's Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

> After a certain amount of self-doubt and debate here's the first chapter of the KKHH AU! Please be patient for Malec, if you know about the movie you know what to expect, and if you don't, well, expect a lot of angst and pining and cursing.
> 
> The paragraphs in _italics_ are memories, in case it isn't clear.
> 
> Thank You to all my EBs for their love and support. Special thanks to Ann for beta reading this and boosting me up and to Sneha for being my pillar and encouraging me to write this. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

 

It's crowded at the house. All these people, who have come to help the family of the deceased share their grief and lend them a shoulder to cry on. 

Magnus doesn't want to face them and their false gestures. 

What do they know? 

_What do they understand_? 

He stands alone beside the coffin in which his beautiful wife has been laid down. Her features relaxed, almost serene. She looks at absolute peace. 

And Magnus is anything but that. 

His wife, his Etta had betrayed him. After promising forever, she just… left. 

He wouldn’t show his grief to these fakers. His face is stoic and neutral, and none of the puffiness that comes from hours of crying visible on his person, hidden behind the makeup he had carefully done himself. His dark brown eyes lined with black kohl are seemingly hard and unrelenting as they stare at the closed wooden lid. 

Only those very close to him can see the anguish within the reddened gaze as he remembers Etta’s smile, her laugh, the crinkles at the corner of her eyes, the softness of her lips and the love in her touch. 

 

_“Oh my God! She’s so beautiful.” Echoes around the hall as Etta walks down the aisle. Standing beside him, Ragnor (his best man) clears his throat and when Magnus jerks and looks back, the older man gives him a shit-eating grin and points at his smitten visage. Magnus rolls his eyes, lips twitching even as the guests in the front row snigger at him._

_He steps down as Etta approaches and takes her hand to help her step up on the platform. Very reluctantly, he let’s go of it and they turn towards the chancellor together, eager and expectant._

_When they have said their vows and accepted each other as husband and wife, they are given the permission to kiss. Magnus wastes no time, grabbing his now-wife, ex-girlfriend, by the waist and pull her into a passionate kiss._

_The loud, joyous applause makes them separate and smile, foreheads resting together and gazing into each other’s eyes with so much love that the wedding guests can feel it and there’s hardly an eye that isn’t wet with tears of their shared joy._

_It’s a match made in heaven, they say._

_And as he and Etta descend the alter, Magnus’ eyes move around the room, hoping to catch the eye of someone almost equally important to him as the woman beside him._

_They aren’t here, a voice whispers in his mind and his heart skips a beat in the realization that he’s lost that person forever. Etta tugs at his hand, her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised. Magnus forces a smile but she tightens the hold on his hand and her gaze turns softer, making him realize… that she knows and understands._

 

Magnus looks up from his musings as a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. It's just Ragnor, who nods at him slightly. 

It's time.

 

The limousine ride to the graveyard is silent except for the gentle fussing coming from a small bundle on Catarina’s lap. A bundle that Magnus can't bring himself to look at. The bundle that started all this…

 

_A loud high-pitched screech distracts him from his work and he stands up just in time for an ecstatic Etta to launch herself into his arms. Magnus laughs and twirls her around, confused yet delighted because it’s been a while since his wife has looked so happy._

_“Whoa! What’s the occasion, darling?” He questions, setting her back on her feet and kissing her forehead._

_Etta doesn’t answer, instead she holds up a pink stick near his face, her own lips stretched in a wide exuberant grin and eyes shining in delight. The tiny digital display shows two vertical lines but Magnus is at a loss. “And… this means?”_

_“You’re going to be a father dumbass!” Etta squeals. She laughs and throws her arms around Magnus’ neck, pulling him down and kissing his shock-slackened lips._

_It takes him longer than he is proud to admit to respond. But he feels his heart swell and a laugh bubbles up his chest. Tears of joy fill up his eyes and he wraps the love of his life up in his arms and picks her up._

_They just hold themselves for a long time. Burying their wet faces in each other’s neck and sharing this moment of happiness they had built together._

 

Upon arrival, the chancellor meets the family at the gate and walks beside the pallbearers carrying the casket with them. His hand on Magnus’ shoulder is heavy with weight and a constant reminder of loss. 

The next few moments are a blur to him. His eyes burn and his vision is hazy… yet not a single tear falls down on his cheek. He doesn’t remember when Etta was lowered into the ground, when everyone assembled around him, when the priest began to speak… when it started to snow. 

When they were asked to talk about the deceased… Magnus’ throat closes up. He swallows a lump so tight, so painful… it bleeds. His head hurts and his eyes sting. 

And this time, when a snowflake lands on his face, it melts with the silent, hot tears running down his cheeks.

 

_One appointment changes everything. One appointment that Magnus had to miss because of a conference with his international clients. When they discover the aneurysm and Etta decides to go ahead with the pregnancy despite knowing the risks involved._

_Magnus sits outside the ER, waiting for someone to come out of that damned room and tell him about his wife and child. His stomach is in knots and his heart’s racing as he remembers the scream._

_There was so much blood… and Etta was lying in a pool… weak and crying in pain._

_Magnus had never felt such type of fear before… never been so scared that he had just frozen and lost precious few minutes._

_He sits on the hard chair, throat tight and legs shaking. Catarina takes the seat beside him and holds his hand to keep them from trembling. She doesn’t look much better though, with red-rimmed eyes and stubbornly hopeful._

_He watches as his father paces the length of the corridor, face pensive and lips chewed bloody. Asmodeus loved Etta as the daughter he never had and the unborn grandchild was already his favorite._

_When the large green doors open and a woman in scrubs walks out, they all stand up and turn to her._

_Her expression tells it all though. She didn’t need to say the words. Behind her, the shrill cry of a newborn baby fades as a ringing fills his ears and he loses his balance._

_“We didn’t have an option. Etta had already lost so much blood, it was impossible to save her.”_

_“And the child?” someone asks._

_“It’s a boy. He’s healthy. Despite being about a week premature, he’s developed well.”_

_But Magnus can’t bring himself to care about anything but the fact the Etta is no more. They ate chocolate ice-cream with chocochips despite the cold yesterday, because she wanted to. She had placed their joined hands on the swell of her stomach and whispered: “Hey baby, mommy and daddy are very silly, but they love you so much.”_

_He doesn’t know when what happened and a squirming baby, with a squished pink face, wrapped in a light blue blanket is placed in his arms._

_Magnus stares at him for a moment. The baby twitches his face when a wet drop of salty tear lands on his cheeks and flutters his eye open. Magnus gasps and puts him in the arms of the person standing next to him. He turns and runs out of the exit before anyone has a chance to call him back._

_Etta’s rich brown eyes had stared up at him from that tiny face._

_Magnus just can’t deal with that right now._

 

It’s just a mound of mud where Etta had been laid. It’s covered with flowers and beautiful garlands of all colors. An angel on top of the tombstone guards over her. Magnus had chosen the words, but he’s unable to look at the carvings which say, _“As you lived in the light with joy, love lifted you. As you brushed against this world so gently, you lifted us.”_

Slowly, the ground is getting whiter and the ceremony coming to an end. 

The others depart, some patting his shoulder, giving him half hugs, kissing his cheeks, just brushing his arm in silent solidarity. Magnus stands stiff as a statue. Ultimately the only ones’ left are the ones Etta had no business leaving alone. 

Catarina stands beside him under an umbrella held upon her head by her husband. The tightly wrapped baby in her arms is silent as though he understands the loss of a mother he will never get to know. 

It’s that final thought that brings Magnus to his knees. The sob stuck in his throat wrenching out in a shout so loud, it shocks the birds off a nearby tree. He digs his hands into the wet mud, crying at the unfairness of it all.

He cries because he couldn’t save her. He cries because he never got to tell Etta he loved her one last time, because he couldn’t hold her as she took her last breath. 

He cries because she couldn’t even see the son she loved so much, the son she gave her life for. 

He cries because their son would grow up not knowing how much his mother loved him, because he would be deprived of the touch blessed by angels. 

He cries because his heart has been broken into a thousand pieces and each shard digs painfully into his chest.

He cries until his eyes itch and his lips are dry. Until he has exhausted his tears once again. 

With a monumental effort, Magnus picks himself off the ground and turns towards his best friends.

He looks down at the baby, kept warm despite the cold and brings his arms up and under the blankets.

Cat gently gives him the infant, and Magnus holds his son for the first time since he was born.

 

_His feet carry him a long distance away from the hospital. Magnus knows running away wouldn’t turn all this into a nightmare and he wouldn’t wake up in the morning curled up next to Etta. He knows._

_Yet, it’s hope._

_Five stages of grief, and he’s already past two and into the third._

_Of course, he doesn’t realize it at the time._

_When his father and his friends return home, teary eyed or sobbing because Etta is dead, Magnus disappears into his room and lock it. He refuses to come out for anything and eventually they leave him alone._

_But their shared bedroom isn’t a refuge either._

_Everything in this room had been handpicked by his wife. The king-sized bed made of mahogany and teak, the matching dresser and the comfortable yet modern couch. The only thing Magnus selected is a sleek table in a corner with a number of mementos atop._

_Magnus just stands in the middle of the room and looks around stupidly._

_Etta had a habit of writing diaries. One of her diaries lie on the table, a gold and red thread stuck in the middle. Never before has Magnus had the urge to read anything she had written. It was her own space, her outlet, things she didn’t want anyone to know yet needing to confess to someone._

_Picking up the tan leather covered notebook, Magnus sits down on the bed and turns the first page._

_“Hey love…” it starts. “If you’re reading this, then I’m probably dead or dying because you would never read my diary without asking.”_

_The black ink blots and spreads, smudging the surrounding words as a drop of tear falls on it._

_“Let’s cover the important things first okay? Whatever happened is **not** your fault. It was my decision and you don’t have the right to take it away from me and make it about yourself. Second, I love you. More than anything. And I want to see you happy. You wanted a child. And I couldn’t give you one. I know because I asked. The doctor had told me, if I terminated and had surgery for the aneurysm, I would never be able to conceive again. How could I take that joy away from you? And me?_

_You may think how can I be joyous when I’m dead. Let me tell you Magnus, carrying our baby and caring for him for those nine months when he was inside of me, are the happiest I have ever been. I would have never felt anything close if I hadn’t taken this step._

_Magnus, I know you are feeling betrayed. But remember, if I had died and never felt the joy of being a mother, I would have died in vain. I am happy my love. I am happy that I brought a new life into this world. A mini you. Another human being who is going to grow up to be as wonderful and kind as his father._

_Give him love Magnus, from both us. Love him as I would have loved him. Hold him as I would have held him. And when you kiss his cheek, make sure he feels me in your kiss._

_He’s new in this world. Teach him to be kind and gentle. Teach him your ways._

_It’s just you and him Magnus. It’s just you and him.”_

 

Holding the innocent child in his arms, Magnus brings him close to his chest and touches his forehead with his lips. 

He rests his cheek against the blankets covering half his face and whispers, “guess it’s just you and I buddy. Just you and I.”

 

\----Seven years later----

Seven is special. And when one turns seven years old, there's a big celebration. 

Or so Maxwell Bane believes. Actually, he believes the same about all his birthdays, ever since he first learned that birthdays are a big deal. 

One day before he turns seven, Max excitedly gets ready for school. He has to inform his friends and teachers about it because they may have forgotten. Like they did when Jessica Dash turned six in the last grade, they didn’t have a celebration and she didn’t get any gifts. It had been a sad affair and she had cried. 

Max will not let it happen to himself.

When he reaches the school, he rushes inside and pulls his best friend aside. “Jackie! Tomorrow is my birthday!” he exclaims. 

When Jack merely rolls his eyes and says, “You’ve been announcing that for a week,” Max lets his arm go and stares at him, betrayed and disappointed. Tears well up his eyes which he blinks away and refuse to let fall, huffing indignantly he turns and walks away, his friend realizing his mistake, runs after him and apologizes. 

At six years, three hundred sixty-four days, Max has a flair for dramatics which… rivals that of his father rather comically. It is something his dad is quite proud, of even though he would never say it and even though it sometimes drives him up the wall.

“We’ll have the party at the big house and we’ll have clowns. If you are scared of clowns you will have to tell me before okay? I’ll ask dad to tell them to go. We will also have the play toys and slides. Do you want the waterfall slide? Marta’s mum got really angry when she got wet…” Max’ excitement knows no bounds as he sits with his friends at lunch and babbles. That’s not to say the other kids aren’t impressed, especially when Max is asking for their opinions. 

It’s such a grown-up thing to do, discussing party plans. Max is well aware that he shouldn’t presume, but he had heard his aunts Cat and Dot discussing the party for tomorrow. He’s sure that it’s supposed to be a surprise, but one doesn’t grow up in the Bane household and not learn to be sneaky. His dad is the sneakiest of all with his gifts and surprises. He’s the only person Max can’t fool.

“I am going to get so many gifts!” Max gushes. “I hope dad got me the new Blu-Ray for Star Wars PS4. Aunt Dot got me _clothes_ last year, who wants _clothes_? I told her I want the new Manga. You know her friend works with Simon Lewis? She promised she would get it for me. And my mum told me she has a surprise for me this year too.” 

And that’s another reason for Max’ enthusiasm. His mother gives him something very different every year on his birthday. Along with a DVD she had filmed when she learned Max might not get to see her. 

A scoff makes Max look up from his colorful pasta. “Your mom is dead. How does she send you presents, from her grave?”

In a split of a second Max’ lunch ends up decorating the other boy’s shirt as it drips from his hair and down his neck. Max stands up calmly, packs his lunch box and leaves his shell-shocked group of friends behind. 

So, what if the school ends up calling his father. No one talks bad about his family, especially about his parents. 

 

The car ride home with his dad is silent and foreboding. Now that he has cooled down, Max realizes he shouldn’t have dumped his hot lunch on someone’s head. But he also blames the teacher who had caught him by his arms and marched him to the principal’s office when the kid bad-mouthing his mother had started to wail.

She didn’t listen to his side of the story and instead called his father in the middle of a meeting. And now dad is pissed. He can tell by the tightness of his lips and the frown between his eyebrows. He’s also holding his glass of whiskey with white knuckles, implying how hard he’s gripping it.

All the silence finally gets to him and a tear slips down Max’ eyes. He sniffles when his nose feels stuffed. 

A deep sigh from the side makes him look and in the next moment, he is being hauled up into his father’s arms who holds him close and lets him cry into his chest.

“Tell me why?” Magnus asks him, softly. 

Max sniffles again, “he said mom is dead.” Which, even though it’s true, hurts too much for him not to react. Magnus places a kiss on his head and rests his stubbled cheeks against his hair. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” His dad whispers.

 

When they get home, Max is passed out in Magnus’ arms as he carries him effortlessly into his bedroom and puts him down to nap. They will have a chat about that temper his son possesses, a legacy that had been passed down by his mother, later. It’s one of the rare things that remind him Etta. Max is so much like him, Etta’s features and mannerisms… lost and distant. 

The few things Max has inherited from her are her hair and a smile that lights up his entire face and creases at the corners of his eyes. 

That smile reminds him of another face that he has worked even harder to forget, but which still haunts his dreams sometimes.

Magnus lays down next to his son and pulls the slumbering boy close. He gently runs his hand through the baby soft hair and pushes the few strands away from his forehead. Max snuffles and turns towards the warmth emanating from his father. The older man puts his head down and follows his son into sleep, still wearing his suit and tie, his long legs awkwardly falling from the edges.

 

Max’ seventh birthday arrives with a cloudless sky and a bright sun shining through his window. He smiles and jumps out of his bed before anyone has to come and wake him up. He runs around his room, peaking at the usual hiding places for his presents but there aren’t any. His grin widens. If his family really wants to surprise him, he’ll play along. 

He is sure there's going to be a huge party at the house. His dad and granddad will give him lots of presents. In fact, he has already had his bucket list delivered to them by a very reliable source, his aunt Catarina. 

If anyone is astonished seeing Max up so early, dressed and ready for school, they don’t say anything. One by one everyone wishes him a “Happy Birthday” and he leaves for school none the richer.

 

School is better. His classroom is decorated and a cake with candles already set upon the table. His classmates wish him and they play games. 

But nothing ebbs the excitement in his stomach thinking about the evening with his family and their friends. And his mom’s gift of course. Max had tried to guess what could be more special than the ‘build your own robot’ he had received last year, but finally decided that the DVD of her talking to him and telling him stories was more precious. He has six of those, one for each birthday. He watches them when he feels lonely, or when he thinks about her. 

He has a pretty good idea what his mother was like. She was beautiful and funny. She was smart and she really loved him. 

As school comes to an end, Max rushes outside. It’s a custom they had built, him and his dad, to spend his birthday together. All day. And then they party, where Max is at the center of attention. 

Max loves it when everyone talks to him or about him. Good things of course (he’s a good kid). 

Another trait that’s fairly genetic. There’s a certain amount of truth when they say Max is the spitting image of his father Magnus Bane.

 

So, imagine his disappointment when he has to wait outside school for his dad to pick him up. And what's worse is that it's not his dad that finally picks him up. It's their driver. Max sits back in his seat stubbornly refusing to put on his seatbelt until a particularly wild turn throws him half off. 

If Max has a penchant for dramatics, it's not his fault. It's his dad's. Like father like son, a mantra that gets him almost everything he asks for. Almost.

He wants a lot of things that his dad can't or won't provide. A mom and a sibling for example.  
The car takes a left turn and Max sits up, instantly concerned. “Where are we going?” He asks his driver.

The uniformed man name Elias, who is almost like an uncle to him, replies in his calm, smooth tone, “Relax Max, we are going where your father asked me to take you.”

Curiosity burns within his chest… as well as hope. So apparently, his dad has something planned for his birthday after all. He almost had the smartest seven-year-old in the world confused.

Oh yeah, modesty isn't a family trait either.

The destination is unknown to him and he has difficulty in reading the overhead sign. It's simply too high.

He jumps off the car before Elias has a chance to get his door open and runs to the tall, dark-haired and very well-dressed man. Said man picks him up and twirls him around, then plants a wet sparkly kiss on his cheek before putting him back on the ground. 

“Ewww Dad” Max exclaims. His dad simply ruffles his hair and holds his hand. 

“Thanks, Elias, I always know I can rely on you. No word, I presume?” His dad asks, with a cheeky smile.

Elias claps his hand on the taller man's shoulder, “anything for you Magnus, and no, the munchkin has no idea.” His smile is positively creepy the way it shifts between mischief and something else.

“Alright then, let's go. We don't want to be late.” And with that, the father and son walk into the building which is still a mystery to Max. 

Once they step inside, Max’ eyes go wide at the displays. Just inside the foyer, there are life-size caricatures of his favorite Manga characters. And the entire hall is decorated in red and yellow of his fav manga books and banners. The corridor opens into a large hall where people are dressed up as various characters giving the atmosphere a lively, colorful aura. 

“DADDY!” Max exclaims and jumps into Magnus’ arms. He grabs his father’s face with his little hands. “You brought me to a Manga Expo! I thought _you_ thought it’s not healthy. And you _also_ said I should focus on my studies and spelling bees. AND you said sports is good!” His mouth runs a mile a minute and for a second there, he forgets that he has just turned seven and he’s supposed to act like a big boy. 

Magnus laughs, holding him close to his chest, and slides his goateed cheeks against the soft palm. “This is a private expo, organized by your favorite publisher.” He puts Max down and holds his hand, “let’s go check it out. It’s your birthday so, you are free to buy anything you want.” 

Perhaps one should turn seven more often.

Max is an adorable child who easily wins hearts and since it’s his birthday, as he has proudly announced at every exhibit, by the time they return home, the little boy has scored so much stuff from comics to figurines, it takes up all of the back seat. Max is so exhausted after the excitement of it all, he falls asleep on his father’s shoulder and doesn’t remember their ride home. 

 

Max’ birthday party runs late into the night, considering it’s a party for young children. Apparently, the activities Dot and Cat had planned were a big success and no child (or adult) left without a painted face, arm or leg. 

It will be talked about for a very long time, Max is sure. He is also convinced that no one and he means _no one_ , not even the snot-nosed, red-haired weasel Morgenstern will be able to top that. 

“Max! look up!” Uncle Ragnor exclaims, a bright flash and click captures him sitting amidst a sea of brightly colored packing papers and an ever-increasing mountainous pile of gifts.

 

When everything has been put away and they are all reclining around the fireplace, relaxed and relieved after a hectic day, Max remembers the last present he’s yet to unpack. He dives back into the pile of gifts to recover the thin package, covered by a distinguishable light blue paper with the number “7” printed upon it.  
He tears into the gift and takes out the DVD, which he hugs close to his chest. “There’s something else here too,” Cat says. The package contains another DVD and a letter. 

“My dear Max,” the letter starts. “Happy Birthday sweetheart. You are seven today, which means you are bigger and smarter. And more responsible yes? You clean your own room, go to school on your own, wake daddy up when he tries to sleep in. I bet you don’t like calling daddy that anymore, you call him “dad” like other big boys. You have probably also learned how to make pancakes. 

So, because of that, I am leaving you a very special gift this time. There are two DVDs with this letter. Watch the one labeled ‘1’ first okay? And then watch the second one. 

I promise you won’t be disappointed. And I promise everyone will be happy, even your dad. 

Remember Max, your mother loves you very much, and she only wants you and your dad to be happy and have everything good in life.  
Love  
Mom(my)”

It’s a short letter, but enough to make everyone tear up. Max grabs the two DVDs and disappears into his room before anyone can stop him.

Its tradition, for him to watch these videos alone. They are meant for him after all.

 

Max loves his mother, despite never having seen her, or talked to her or been held by her. He understands the efforts she had taken to make sure he knew her and not just her stories from other people.  
There’s a girl in his class whose mother died when she was a baby. Her father never married again, but he doesn’t tell her stories about her mum either…. Okay, he tells her stuff. But it’s all superficial things like how beautiful she was, how kind, how generous, how everyone loved her. It makes Max’ friend feel good about her parents, but she doesn’t know, and she never will, what her mum sounded like when she said her name, nor hear favourite lullaby sung in her mother’s voice, nor count the number of lines around her eyes when she laughed.  
So, yes. Max considers himself lucky he has never felt deprived. When he misses his mother, which he rarely does, he always comes back to these videos and watches them for hours. 

The truth is, Max doesn’t know how to feel. His family loves him, his father spoils him, his grandfather dotes on him and his uncles and aunts are always around. He never feels lonely. Even his mother made sure Max knows exactly how much she cared.

With an enthusiastic smile on his face, Max puts the DVD in the player, pulls up his earphones and hits ‘play’.

The video starts with Etta standing near a kitchen counter and stirring something in a black pot. “Hey baby!” she says. “I’m teaching your father how to make the best Nasi goreng in the city. I told him it will be your favorite.” She winks into the camera.

It’s true, Max chuckles wide. 

“Now I’m going to put this to simmer,” she says, putting the lid on top and lowering the flame. The camera shifts as she picks it up and carries it with her. She doesn’t stop talking though, even as she walks around, telling him about her day, her dog, her roses. It’s a delight watching her, Max discovers, putting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his raised hand. 

Etta finally settles down on a bench outdoors. Wherever they used to live before has a nice garden. Quaint… Max would say, now that he has learned that word. It doesn’t look as big as this one though, and not as pretty either, but with his mother sat among the rose bushes… it’s nicer.

“Baby, I am going to tell you a very special story today all right? I hope you haven’t seen the other video yet. We don’t want you spoilt.” She smiles, but it doesn’t wrinkle the corners of her eyes. 

Max is drawn nonetheless.

“Today I am going to tell you a love story.”

“Hey now, don’t make that face! Boys your age think love is not important, but it is. Your family **loves** you, your parents **love** you, your siblings and friends. So why not that one special person who may love you more than anyone if you let them. Love makes us happy. Can you imagine, if your dad didn’t love you? Or your granddad? Hmm? Hurts, yes?”

“Today, I’ll tell a story in which I loved your dad and your dad loved me. But your dad also loved someone else, and that person also loved your dad. They just didn’t know.”

“It’s not a story, but something that happened nine years ago. Between me, Magnus and Alec, your dad’s _Alexander._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)
> 
> Please leave a kudos and comment, lemme know what you think. Also, if you have any suggestions you can talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/mortalwings).
> 
> I will try to update this as soon as possible but please bear in mind that sometimes life gets in the way and updates get delayed.
> 
> Love  
> Author


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